"You failed?" The words left his mouth, and even then, he felt as if they were unnatural. As if winning was the only way this would have ended. The prickly sensation in his throat made the words burn as they came out, as if his throat were on fire.
Disbelief burned in his eyes, his mouth closing and opening, repeating the words as if they would change.
And then the anger came.
'You FAILED?" His pupils slitted, and his muscles bulged; the ground around him cracked. His black uniform tore from the violent winds of his aura.
An Illusory Lion, comprised purely of Aura formed behind him, roared.
Leon, consumed by his fiery rage, failed to realize the creeping cold that leeched his warmth or the whimpering lion.
"I GAVE You EVERYTHING." He roared, his aura like a raging flame. "A whole Dukedom." His face twisted into a sneer, his white teeth shining amongst the green.
"All I asked was for one dead heir." His golden hair raised. It flared around him, like a mane, his veins bulging.
And then it stopped.
The dark, greenish hellscape shrouded by smoke closed in.
Without warning, without sound.
And the silence that came next was more worrisome than a tantrum.
No, it was broken by a chuckle.
One without humor, like the sickly sounds of a dying animal. It rattled, like a snake zeroing in on prey.
No words were needed to quell his rage; the anger left faster than it came, his face pale. Devoid of the boiling blood that once gripped his heart.
Now, a new emotion trickled in.
Even then, a word was spoken.
"Silence." The word sharper than any knife that could stab him, spoken from beyond the veil, a great being covered in fog, his voice both holy and vile.
Sometimes a single word was enough, and for Leon, it was worse.
He touched his lips. Closed. He tried to open it to speak, yet his mouth would not budge, and that was when panic crept in. He wanted to scream, he wanted to beg, Forgive me. It wasn't his fault when his blood started pumping; he couldn't control himself. He had excuses.
But at the end of the day, that's what they were, excuses.
He began to scratch his throat, and the feeling of his mouth not opening created a shortness of breath. Red marks appeared on his skin.
"Do you smell that?" The being on the throne asked, his visage covered by green mist. Yet his fist, which morphed into different things, was visible. It rose as if he were inhaling the scent of a freshly baked pie.
Unbeknownst to Leon, the green mist surrounded him.
Did he smell what? Perhaps in panic, Leon inhaled; he inhaled like his life depended on it.
And for all he knew, it did.
But what Leon could smell was no pie, nor was it something sweet. His eyes closed, tight. If he could tell him what he smelled, would he be alright?
It was naivety, but it was worth trying.
Sand? The scent was soft, barely present; if it was sand, it was far removed from any ocean. Then he began to smell flowers, and the soft allure of nature. Unconsciously, he began to smile, it reminded him of his time as a child surrounded by the flowers his mother planted.
That's right, he was too strong a card to kill.
He opened his eyes, and the dark faded. The green hellish land was nowhere to be found; instead, he was back in the training area.
A single-edged sword in his hand, the blade glowed yellow. His surroundings were familiar, a small rung fence that encircled the area, which was white, with chiseled gold. Leon's fingers tightly held onto his sword, the only gift his father had ever given him.
A tree that his mother planted to the left of him. The small, thin trunk supporting the lush green leaves. The sky was so blue, it beckoned one to go outside, and the sun shining so bright, one would think there was no evil.
Familiar.
That tree... His mind a foggy mess, Leon couldn't remember how he had gotten here. The sword that felt comfortable in his hand felt odd.
The last time he held that sword was...
His heel dug into the sand, and in front of him was someone. The fog in his mind began to clear, like the end of a rainstorm.
He knew.
It wasn't just anyone; it was someone he knew intimately. His hand, which held nothing, touched the scar that was on his face. His fingers looked for the indent and roamed along his face.
It was smooth, the scar missing. A creeping sense of dread washed over him, and he began to sweat profusely. His hand that gripped the sword began to tremble, and the hair behind his neck rose. His heart started beating like a locomotive, the same thing those cursed dwarves built.
He knew where he was, when he was.
And no matter how long it happened ago, no matter how many years passed.
He would remember.
Not this, not here. His throat tightened, and the sound of birds' chirping became muffled.
He had to leave, escape. But his body didn't listen to him.
He opened his mouth to scream, to tell her, 'He yielded', and just as he was before, the words would not leave his mouth. 'Ria, please.' He stepped back, his foot tripping himself. He stumbled but got back up, his hands waving in surrender. 'Ria, listen.' His back hit the fence. 'You don't.' Her eyes unmoving, cold like a predator seeing its prey. Her languished smile, that never reached her eyes. A blue colder than any ice.
'You don't understand.'
Hiccup.
A tear began to fall from the corner of his eye; 'IT was all I had.' Like water works, they began to flow as if a dam was removed. 'All I had.' He sobbed.
She moved quickly, her steps light like a feather, and her sword moved like a great dragon in the air.
Stop.
A single cut that seemed like three. His vision became upturned, and before he knew it, he was on his back. The tree was cut down, and his sword was in pieces. The hot blood dripping from his face burned, as it wet his face.
Stop.
She raised her sword as if to strike him down.
Stop please.
His hands instinctively raised to beg, even if he knew she wasn't going to kill him. She brought her sword down.
A warm liquid streamed down his pants. His eyes were like a flowing river, and his nose was dripping with snot.
And she stopped at his neck. Ria began to laugh, her nose wrinkling in delight, her evil eyes that didn't seem connected to her body twinkling.
"That is fear." His words cut through the arena, the world twisting and shattering. Rebuilding itself into his realm.
Leon was back in the hellscape, and he quickly touched his body.
The only smell was the rancid stench of his own piss.
His body refused to stop trembling, and his beating heart would not stop hammering into his ribs as if trying to escape.
"Pathetic."
An unbearable weight was placed on his shoulders, and like Atlas, he felt as if the world was being held.
His knees buckled, and he was brought down on his knees, his face infinitely close to the same puddle that came from him.
His muscles began to ache as he felt that he was pushing against the world. Leon's pale face, which was once drained of red, now resembled a tomato as his eyes bulged. The aura of Lothar pressed down on him.
"How Lucky..." It mused, the voice like nails scratching against a door.
"To have my blood running through your veins, or you would take your place among my throne." As if to enforce his words, the hellish screams of the damned echoed in the chamber.
'Become one'
'One with us'
'You owe a debt'
Its hand moved to grip what seemed to be its chin as it hummed in deep thought.
"Acknowledge." Green flames flared around the area.
"Your luck." Its green eyes glowed beyond the fog. It flicked its wrist, and the weight vanished as if it had never been there.
But Leon did not get up.
It wasn't so much a choice as it was a desire to live. He sucked in his tears and did his best to calm his heart.
He forced a sycophantic smile and remained kneeling. He didn't even dare raise his head, the puddle and odor of piss mere inches from his head.
"Yes, Your Holiness." He managed to say.
"I acknowledge my luck."
Leon clenched his fist, drawing blood to keep himself steady.
"Great god of Lions, and Justice." He continued as if reciting a poem. His tone is flowery and devoted.
The flames died down, and the freezing air became warm.
It scoffed. "That name no longer belongs to me."
"Does this place scream Justice?" The air grew somber.
"Answer"
"No, your excellency."
"Now only dread remains."
"Address me as such." It pounded its fist on its throne. The sound was reminiscent of a hammer hitting an anvil.
"Yes, Lord of Dread." He kept his eyes on the ground as he started to chew his lip.
"Good." Its tone lightened, and it sounded pleased.
"You wonder why I failed?" It chuckled.
Leon wanted to speak, but he learned his lesson.
"I can hear your desires from here."
His words made Leon panic.
"Relax."
Yet his words that once made him mute did not calm him.
"Yes, a god has no reason to explain to a mortal, but I will humor you."
Leon did not feel humored.
"All of that destruction and death for a single life, I thought you mad."
It laughed, like death.
"Nay, I still do."
"But even now, if offered an Empire, I would deny such a deal." It growled, the world around him shifting to match his emotion.
"I would have fashioned them into my throne, for even suggesting such a thing."
"Forgive this god for lying, Descendant, but I did not spare you just because of familial ties." It began to talk.
"No, I wanted to see how this would end. Do you think that gods are blind? The malevolent odor that a demon permeates cannot be hidden."
His steadying heart began to beat rapidly once again.
"Steel your nerves, your life is not mine to take."
"That day, when you messed with the circle and brought four calamities onto my domain."
'Four?' Leon's eyes scrunched up, while his gaze became incredulous. Sure, the Saint was not in his calculations, but other than the paladin and the Saint, he couldn't think of the fourth calamity.
"You are a stain on my legacy. Do you not even know who you act against?" It snarled.
"The Saint of Lux, Novak's Shield, The Golden Dragon, The one blessed by the heavens."
"Who?" Leon asked, his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes instinctively made their way to the being. The green eyes glowed with intensity that unnerved Leon.
He shuddered before casting his gaze downward.
"I will permit this interruption, but do not get conceited. When a god talks, you listen." His body, beyond the smoke, leaned in, and the green eyes shrouded in dread glowed.
"That girl is under the protection of Tlaloc."
"Tlaloc?" Leon muttered, his brain working on overdrive as he remembered the many gods that roamed this world.
"The one you call Bahamut, the Dragon King." It leaned back in his throne.
"He's real?" Leon asked. "I thought he was some propaganda from the dragons."
Lothar laughed, the world moving with him.
"Was it not written? My humble origins?"
Leon did not want to mention that all knowledge after his ascension was scrubbed from the records, and even then, his life was clouded in mystery.
"Carved in the stars for all to see?"
"Then my legacy is truly destined for death." It sighed, as the lights flickered.
"His glorious light, so bright it could dwarf a star. In his servitude, is when I ignited my flame."
"Serving him?" The words felt like bile on his lips: "Then do you still?"
"Fool"
"If I were still serving him, do you think I would have become like this?"
"Would I be here talking to someone as pathetic as you?"
"I HATE him"
The world around him screamed in dread.